


The Complications

by hazeltea (madlovescience)



Series: The Complications/Where We Belong [1]
Category: Jeeves & Wooster
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-10
Updated: 2011-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-14 15:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlovescience/pseuds/hazeltea





	1. Chapter 1

It’s funny how one falls into things in life. One moment you’re a bachelor, content with your lot in the world, and through some horrible twists of fate and terrible misfortune, you find yourself lost and alone, only to discover that what you want most in this world is to share your life with someone. I get ahead of myself here, as I often do- in medias res, as Jeeves informs me, a technique that works better with some writers than others. I suppose I should state the facts, set the scene, as it were. I lived my life with my valet, Jeeves, the most competent, loyal, brilliant marvel of a man as any that had ever lived; and I was content. My Aunt Agatha habitually threw young women in my path in hopes of marrying me off, sometimes, the beazels in question would take it upon themselves to do the flinging- and yet, so contented was I with my peerless paragon of a valet who never tried to mould or improve me, as my Aunt Agatha says (as though this were to be thought of as a good thing!) that I never shared their vision of wedded bliss. Being that we didn’t see eye to eye on this marriage business, I could always rely on Jeeves to untangle me from the mess without a stain on my character. Perhaps a slight sullying, in the form of rumors of insanity or a trip up with the law, but never anything that would make me seem less of a gentleman, for one doesn’t like to let down the hopes of the fairer sex.

I had made up my mind that we’d be together always. Who needed a wife when they have a man as capable, as wonderful as Jeeves to look after them? Certainly not Bertram Wooster. However, as my fellow Drones married one by one, and talked of their wives and children and such, I began to wonder if I was missing out on something. I was toying with the idea of adopting a daughter, a jolly little girl to sit on my knee and be charming and full of sugar and spice and such, as they say, when my world was shaken by an unexpected horror.

Jeeves had contracted an understanding with some cook at a country house. What was worse was the fact that what he had contracted had addled his able, logical brain, and he wished to act on it. Biff off to the country and marry her, leaving me alone. It was quite a nasty shock, but, mulling it over, what right did I have to stop him? Jeeves had given me such joy and contentment, and what had I given him in return but a wage he could earn elsewhere? The years I’d spent with him had been the happiest of my life, and I could hardly begrudge him his own happiness, if this is what he truly wanted. I couldn’t blame him, really, for although someone of his intellect and charm would have done better to leave me to become the Prime Minister or a dashing cinema star and not the husband of some country house cook, one has to admit that the care and feeding of one hapless Wooster, B. is not what someone as great as him must aspire to in life. I had to be encouraging and supportive, for his sake.

I did my bit as best as I could, offering my congratulations warmly and insisting that he accept a tidy sum to set up his household as a wedding present. I insisted that he come to me in times of need, and he returned the warmth by asking me to stand by him at the altar as his best man. On the morning of the wedding, I prayed for some miracle to stop the nightmare from progressing, but my hopes were dashed, as the miracle worker himself had a different hope for the day’s outcome.

As I caught sight of him, my heart plummeted to my stomach. He was wearing a crisp collar and tuxedo, his buttonhole sporting a posy of deep violet flowers. He looked even more handsome and perfectly put together than was his custom, which I hardly thought was possible. Something inside me shattered at that moment, a black cloud of gloom filling me as I realized that surely, he was the only one I had ever truly loved; and I would never get to tell him because he was leaving, dash it, leaving to start a new, proper life without me. I cursed my stupidity, for not taking the risk to tell him all, for not being selfish and insisting on keeping him at any cost, for not being born female so that I could lock the bride in a broom cupboard and take her place.

I didn’t want to see the bride. I didn’t want to see the face of some pretty young thing, knowing that I would memorize it and think of Jeeves smiling at her the way he used to smile at me. Her veil was trailing behind her, though, and not covering her face, so I had to take a glance. It pleased me in a way to see that she was plain; brown hair, brown eyes, not unattractive, surely, but someone you’d never look at twice in a crowd. I bit my lip then, considering what her attraction was. Surely she was a brainy beazel, if not beautiful, able to discuss Spinoza and recite verses in Latin. It had to be that.

I looked away when the vows were exchanged, and stayed at the small reception long enough to make a toast in a shaking voice, and greet the guests. I slipped away then, and off to a nightclub to drink. I didn’t want to go to the Drones, or see anyone I might know, because I didn’t want to talk about what had just happened. I made it home, somehow, and stared my new life hung over, with no restorative to set me right in the morning.

Suffice it to say, it has been a difficult three years.

 

*******************************************************************

I found the newspaper by my bedside one afternoon, left by Miller, the quiet, older chap I had hired to replace Jeeves. He kept to himself and rarely said a word unless spoken to, but he managed to feed me and remind me when the bills were due, which was a great help. My survival was further aided by a young maid named Maude, who did a bit of cleaning and indulged me in the idle chat, which Miller was less than comfortable with. I knew Miller had left the paper because it was Thursday, and Maude was only here three times a week. I rubbed my temple and winced at the searing beam of sunlight falling over my brow. It was this light that finally convinced me to sit up fully and begin the day.

I supposed I would eat the breakfast that Miller had left for me and read the paper cover to cover, as was my custom when delaying getting out of bed. I even began to read the political articles, and was halfway through them before I stopped, bored half to sleep again. For lack of anything better to read, having read through the society pages, sport pages, and even the classified ads, I turned to the fine print announcing arrests (which are usually full of interest and entertainment, but alas, not that day), and finally the obituaries. It was there that I saw it.

JEEVES, Mary M. died 20 May 1929 - Memoriam by husband, Reginald  
& daughter, Hazel JEEVES (Monday - 23 June 1930)

Jeeves! There was no further explanation. I read it three times to be sure that I had grasped the facts. A month had elapsed, and he hadn’t come to me for a shoulder to lean on! I frowned at the paper. A daughter! He’d never mentioned that. I was seized by the need to see him, to hear his voice, to do what I could before he stopped contacting me altogether- not even a Christmas letter- and in time, forget about me completely. The thought formed a lump of ice in my stomach. I stumbled out of bed and towards the telephone to place a telegram.

*******************************************************************

MR.WOOSTER,  
I AM ABLE TO COME TOMORROW AFTERNOON 3 O’CLOCK AS REQUESTED. DO NOT TROUBLE YOURSELF. JEEVES.

My hand shook in anticipation as I folded the telegram, having read it a dozen more times, and tucked it into my jacket. He would be here any moment now, surely. Miller had left cold beef with tea at my request. It was hardly the best offering, but what I had to tell Jeeves wouldn’t go over well in public. He’d never forgive me if I sprang my idea on him in front of lunching couples.

I was jarred from my reverie by the buzzing of the doorbell, and I leapt from my seat, scrambling across the sitting room to fling the door open with all the enthusiasm of a dog pulling on its lead. I was not disappointed; for Jeeves had arrived in the flesh, at the exact appointed time, punctuality being a sacred virtue to him.

“Sir.” He said, simply, and my mouth struggled to find words as my eyes searched him. I didn’t like what I saw. His eyes were tired, and sported dark circles beneath them. He looked leaner, and had the air about him of someone undone, not keeping with the idea I had of him as a godlike figure able to sail smoothly through any trial.

He reached out with deft fingers, and carefully straightened my tie. His eyes fell with a touch of disapproval on my waistcoat, which, hence unknown to me, had lost a button. I swallowed a lump in my throat. The poor man had been through hell, and at a time like this he was concerned about the state that I was in! “Oh, Jeeves.” I managed, hoarsely. “Come in.”


	2. Chapter 2

Jeeves poured a cup of tea and pressed it into my palm. It was such a natural gesture that I forgot, for a moment, the reason we were meeting- that he had left my service and hadn’t been pressing cups of steaming tea into my hand for over three long years, nor brandy and sodas, nor healing elixirs. I took a long sip, and the warm liquid supplied by him did more to soothe my shaky hands than the three quick ones I’d taken just prior to his arrival. By then, he’d sat across the table, looking into my eyes steadily. I took a deep breath and began my pitch.

“I read about… I mean to say… dash it, Jeeves, I’m sorry.” I stammered. I’d had a touching, elegant speech planned in my head, and now the moment was gone and I felt a complete and utter chump.

The corner of his mouth twitched in sympathy, and his eyes softened just a bit. “I appreciate your concern, sir.” He said, smoothly. “Life has been… most difficult as of late.”

The distant look in his eyes just about broke my heart. “She was a good girl, what?” I added, to show my support, though I had no idea what she was like at all.

“You aren’t married, sir.” He stated, disarming me with an unexpected topic.

I stammered once more. “No. No, thank heavens not, Jeeves. No.” I couldn’t express this firmly enough, and luckily, it was easy enough to express with one short word.

A slight clearing of his throat, and he was gazing at me again, scrutinizing. “If I might take such a liberty, sir, what became of your alliance with Miss Wickham?”

“Well.” I began. This was a bit harder to explain. “I left her at the altar.” I concluded, lamely. I felt my cheeks burn. I still felt terribly ashamed over the whole bally episode.

“Sir?” to credit his faith in my good name, he looked suitably surprised. I nodded.

“I didn’t mean to, but the day came, and I panicked.” I explained, raking back my hair. “I started to drive to the church, but when I got there, I kept driving. I wound up in Glasgow.” Here, I could sense Jeeves’ amusement before the tired chuckle fell on my ears. I remembered the day Bobbie had finally caught up with me, mad as a wet hen. She’d been quite adamant about not wanting to marry me anymore; but she demanded an explanation for why I’d made a fool of her in front of all of Market Snodsbury, and I could see her point. I’d told her through a haze of brandy that marriage destroys people’s lives. I’d been under the table at the time, and brooding on Jeeves.

“Bobbie’s a good egg, though. She abused me quite soundly to any girl that would listen, so my market value took quite a plunge after that. Combined with the fact that most of the girls I’d proposed to in my rowdy younger years had already gotten hitched, I’ve been relatively safe. Well, not safe from relatives. Aunt Agatha is developing a bit of dyspepsia over the sate of affairs.” I fell silent, having run my course. Jeeves had such a serious look in his eyes, for a moment I thought it was almost hostile. Then I saw the pain in them and understood that my troubles were small talk to the ones that must weigh so heavily on his mind.

“Jeeves… there’s something I wanted to discuss, you know, about the state of our lives at the mo. That is, to say, what can I do to convince you to come back here?” I asked, sneaking a sidelong glance at him from behind the teapot. “I know it’s sudden to ask, what with everything having just… happened…but…” But, Jeeves wouldn’t want to hear what I had to say, especially not while he was in mourning. Pace yourself, Bertram, I thought, lure him back without being rude. “But I hear that a change of scenery does a broken heart good. I could swear I heard Pop Glossop say something of the sort once, so it’s a medical fact.”

He shook his head. “It is an extremely kind offer, sir, but I couldn’t impose on your life in such a way right now.”

“Impose? Certainly not, Jeeves!” I exclaimed. “My life would be all the better for your so called imposing!” Surely he could see what a mess I was. Without him, I was quite the slovenly bachelor. I gave him my best lopsided smile, the one that had sometimes, though rarely,softened him up in the past.

That look again! As though he were impossibly angry with me, but a lingering fondness dulled the overall effect. “Sir, I have serious and unpleasant responsibilities. I fear that you would find that I could not provide the level of satisfaction you are accustomed to in my duties while caring for a sick child.” His voice was cold, and hollow. Said l. was still piercing me through and through.

“Sick?” I asked. His voice, his expression, made me worry.

“Yes, sir. Little Hazel, my daughter, was born some weeks prematurely. Her delivery involved some complications, and because of this, she was born in a hospital, where her mother contracted a fever and expired.” He drew in his breath sharply. “I was advised to not expect her to survive the winter.”

I was horrified, and then, mercifully, my emotions rallied. “What rot! “ I cried. “Bring her here, Jeeves, and I’ll hire specialists by the dozen. I’ll import them from New York if I have to.”

He looked away. “Sir, the metropolis is no place for a child like Hazel…”

“There’s no better place! You can’t throw a brick in London without hitting a medical man with a wall full of degrees.” I persisted.

“Sir.” He sighed, heavily. “You can’t do this for us. It isn’t proper behavior for a gentleman of your station.”

If I hadn’t been so fired up, I probably wouldn’t have been struck by inspiration. “It jolly well is if she’s my goddaughter.” I growled. “Shall we biff on down to the chapel and make this official, then?”

He actually startled. I gave him what amounted to my best hard, steady glare. It might have been this that convinced him; but it was more likely the weight of the bills that specialists can produce with such alarming speed that finally broke his spirit.


	3. Chapter 3

Little Hazel lived up to her name. When I first laid eyes on her, cradled in Jeeves’ arm, I thought for a moment that she was a doll meant for the child. Then, she sneezed. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Jeeves offered her to me, and I gingerly took her, surprised at how heavy her head was compared to the rest of her. She must have the old man’s brains.

As a general rule, I’ve never been too fond of children. They have their moments, mind you, but on the whole they are absolute terrors. Having been one myself once, I can attest to this. Hazel was certainly not without fault. Her tiny lungs, which rasped for breath under normal circs., could ring out a shrill shriek louder than any full grown girl I’d ever met, and she frequently displayed this talent in the dead of the night. Jeeves always knew what to do, though, and the noise never lasted long. The other thing that she was really tops at was soiling diapers, and after witnessing the changing of said diaper once, I felt myself heaving, and had to leave the room for some fresh air.

However, she had one feature that was enough to make me forgive her unpleasant traits. She had blue eyes, or, more specifically, eyes the shining blue gray of the ocean on an overcast day, that glittered with interest when she regarded me. His eyes. Those eyes, combined with the fact that she always seemed rather pleased to see me, were a fatal combination. I fell in love.

There is a tiny, boxy corridor separating Jeeves’ lair and wash room from the kitchen; and it was here that Hazel spent much of her time, lounging in a wicker bassinette as Jeeves worked close at hand. I was finishing my tea and watching her sleep, for she’d been tired out by a long session with the specialist that morning.

“She doesn’t like the doctor.” I mused. “She can tell when he’s coming because she always fusses just before. Smart as a whip, isn’t she.”

“Indeed, sir.” Jeeves replied, looking up from the potatoes he was peeling. “Although I think it is more likely that it is because she has learned her daily routine.”

“It’s more than that.” I insisted. “She’s inherited your supreme intellect, Jeeves. She’s going to be one of those brainy beazels, and she’ll get top marks at school. We’ll send her to the best schools in London, and she’ll surpass everyone there.” I beamed with a vicarious sort of pride, for academics have never been my strong point.

“Sir.” Jeeves said, with disapproval and a good deal of soupiness in his tone, “You must not spoil her. She will get ideas above her station.”

I frowned. “But she’s my goddaughter,” I insisted.

Jeeves sighed, enough for me, alone, to notice. “And she is the daughter of a servant. She cannot aspire to be accepted as a society lady.”

I understood his drift, as there were still quite a few people that weren’t possessed of a progressive mind frame. Still, it was the older generation that did much of the grousing. That is not to say that servants didn’t have their pride, of course. From what I’ve gathered they generally behave with a feudal dignity that sets them apart from the masses, yet keeps them from fraternizing freely with the nobles. As such, servants tend to marry servants, and Jeeves isn’t one that likes to step out of line, professionally. I heaved a sigh myself, thinking of how that kind of thinking made my dream of being his even more hopeless.

“I know I have said this many times, sir, but what you have done for us is more than I could ever hope for, and I am eternally grateful. I must insist, though-“

“You worry too much, Jeeves.” I replied, straddling the chair and propping my chin on my palm. Jeeves was frowning down at the potatoes, staring them down as if he actually had to concentrate on the task. I took a chance. “What’s really eating you, old thing?” I asked, softly, for the sight of him so distracted and distraught was affecting me as well.

“Sir, why did you not marry?” he asked.

This again! “I told you. Bobbie didn’t want-“

“And no one else did, sir?” he whispered.

“No!” I cried. “And what’s more, I didn’t want to, either. You know that. You always knew that. I guess… it’s just not meant to be, for me. I never fell in love like you did.” I sighed.

Jeeves set his jaw, and he had an odd look about his eyes. It took a moment before I realized that the sheen in them were unshed tears. I felt bally awful for bringing it up, and was about to rise to leave the kitchen to give him a bit of privacy, when he spoke.

“I didn’t love her, sir.” he said, not meeting my eyes. “She was, as you say, a good girl. As for Hazel…” he inhaled sharply, and pointedly looked away from the wicker basket. “I do love her, sir, adamantly. Yet I resent her. Forgive me, sir. I needed to tell someone. I’m just… so tired.”

The pain crossing his brow was more than I could bear. I gathered Hazel into my arms. “Leave the cooking, Jeeves.” I said, quietly. “Have a lie down, or have a crack at your Spinoza. Don’t worry about all this.”

What frightened me was that he didn’t argue with my suggestion.


	4. Chapter 4

_…Don't keep your hand in mine  
Your hand feels so grand in mine   
People will say we're in love!   
Don't dance all night with me   
Till the stars fade from above.   
They'll see it's alright with me   
People will say we're in love._

 

I wound down the last notes slowly, my fingers lingering on the keys. Under normal circs. , one doesn’t want to put their audience to sleep, but I was pleased to have lulled Hazel halfway there. “Not that we have to worry about that, what?” I murmured to my charge. She gave a wide yawn and closed her eyes, uninterested in my woes.

Jeeves would be back any moment now. I’d instructed him to take the afternoon off to relax. Having left me in charge of a baby and a pot roast, it was unlikely that he wasn’t worrying himself to death at present time. It had taken the better part of an hour to convince him that I was capable of supervising the roast, which required only that I not touch it until he returns. Hazel was a different story; having been freshly diapered and fed before his departure, she was jolly company. He somehow trusted me with that task.

I smiled as Jeeves opened the door and entered. Somehow the mere sight of him is enough to make me smile, to make my heart flutter and flop, even if he’s not at his best and brightest and even if he doesn’t love me in the way that I quite desperately love him. If absence made my heart grow fonder, recent proximity made it impossible to think of much else. “Look in at the club?” I asked, genuinely curious as to if he’d done any actual relaxing.

“No, sir. I went to the park.” He replied. “It is extremely peaceful at this time of day.”

“She’s asleep.” I gestured proudly to the bassinette. “I weave a skillful lullaby.” This earned me the slightest quirk of his lips.

“You are invaluable, sir.”

I was aghast. “Nonsense. You’re the invaluable one, old thing.”

“Perhaps not as much as I once was.” He mused. “It pains me to think of the inconvenience I am putting you through. “

I shook my head. “I’m grateful for it.” I replied, meaning every word. “And now that you’ve brought it up, it pains me to see you pained, at that.” I took a deep breath. I had decided that morning that I would make my push while his defenses were lowered.

“I want to have a talk with you, Jeeves.” I said, gesturing for him to sit beside me “Not as your employer, but as your friend. As godfather to your daughter. Gentleman to gentleman. The sort of talk which bears no danger of consequences.”

He gave me a rummy sort of look. “Very good, sir.” He replied, and accepted the seat.

“I worry for you.” I began, suddenly nervous that what I had to say would come out all sorts of wrong.

“Sir, you mustn’t concern yourself with such things.” He insisted.

“But I must!” I cried. ‘You… you are important to me, Jeeves, dashed important at that. You must stop walking on bally eggshells.”

His eyes clouded. “You must remember that I am your valet, sir.” He said, quietly. “It is not good for you to hold me in such high esteem, to the exclusion of others of your rank.”

He was trying to put distance between us again. I clenched my fingers in the cushion. “The class system is bunk!” I declared, earning a disapproving look from the object of my affections, who thought rather highly of it. “What I mean to say is, why shouldn’t I care for you? You’ve shared so much of my life, the best and worst bits of my life, I believe. You always came through for me in the end. I want…” I felt myself blushing, reflecting on what it was that I really wanted. This speech was only meant to scratch the surface.

“Sir.” He said, gently. “You should not worry so much for my well being. You are still a young man. If you continue to cling to my apron strings, you will never have the companionship that you so deserve. For too long, I manipulated you to stay in your service. I began with good intentions. I weeded out the young ladies that were unsuitable. I came to realize that they were all unsuitable.” He added, darkly. “I felt justified so long as you were content. When I noticed that you had fallen into a depression, longing for a child… I regretted how selfish I had been.” He took a deep breath, and was eerily still once more.

“So, you left.” I concluded, dully.

“It seemed to be the prudent course of action, sir. The misunderstanding that led to my engagement was aptly timed.”

I shook my head. “If there’s one thing you should know by now, it’s that you can’t mould Bertram Wooster. He resists, remaining as God intended. Instead of hitching myself to some toothsome filly, I pined away. Foolish, I know, but there you have it. I’m happy now, with you at my side and the daughter- nay, godchild- that I wished for.” I corrected myself, feeling that it was surely a liberty to claim another man’s first born as your own.

“You frustrate me, sir. I am most disturbed that my efforts have been in vain.” His eyes lit on Hazel, and I saw it again- the flash of regret , anger, and resentment first diverted to her, and then to me. Suddenly, I understood. The scales fell from my eyes and I saw all for what it was, a clear as daybreak. Jeeves had created an elaborate scheme, the wheeze of a lifetime, to ensure my happiness, and it had backfired. His ego was wounded. Add to this the misery of getting hitched to some country girl he barely knew, and the extra workload that caring for Hazel thrust onto him, and it was no wonder that he was discontent.

He’d done it for me. He’d uprooted his life and everything he cared about, for me. “I’m sorry.” I began, a bit shyly. “You know that I’m too mentally negligible to take a hint, Jeeves. You know that. If you thought that leaving would make me happy, you were wrong, but take heart in the fact that your return has emboldened the Wooster spirit tenfold. I want you to stop worrying about Hazel disturbing me, too. She’s a joy to have around, an absolute corker as far as babies go.”

Jeeves merely sighed, a sigh laden with defeat.

“I don’t know why you’d go through all of this for the likes of me.” I continued. “I say, Jeeves, this is still a conversation bound by a gentleman’s agreement, isn’t it? That we might speak freely, without fear of consequences?”

“If it pleases you, sir.” He replied.

I screwed up my courage. “In that case, I have something to say. I’m fairly sure that I love you, old thing. No, more than fairly sure, I am convinced. If it disturbs you, you can leave; and don’t worry about the baby. I’ll pay her bills no matter where you go. Don’t think to stay because of that, or because you think you owe me a debt. All the same, I do wish you would stay, and let me take comfort in the company of you, and my dear goddaughter.” I looked away. “No strings, my love. None.” No matter how much I wanted him, I couldn’t force him to stay. Only a monster would force him, holding his child for ransom. The most terrible silence ensued, and I held my breath, waiting for his reaction.

“This is truly your wish, sir?” he asked, cautiously. “You have thought this through and have considered the situation from every angle?”

“I’ve thought of little else these past few years.” I managed.

“Are you certain that what you feel is deeper than friendship?” He took my hand in his, and my pulse began to race. Surely he could feel that, could tell by the way that my hand was growing clammy with nerves; and yet he still regarded me with a discerning look. “Do you understand what it implies, to share your bed with a man? With a servant, no less?” he added, his voice soft and level, offering me a change to backpedal and remove myself from the situation while saving face. His voice was dark and deep, and I very nearly swooned, as silly girls do in films. I considered his words- did I know? I’d had a few awkward experiments in the dark with some boys at Eton, but that didn’t strike me as expert knowledge. But then again, what did I know of women? I’d kissed plenty of girls in my time, but I’d never been under their skirts, and only had a vague idea of how their underpinnings worked.

“I don’t know much.” I admitted. “But I could learn.” I regarded him coyly. “I say, Jeeves… none of this matters unless it were truly your wish, as well.”

“My dear Bertram.” He began. “Would I have done any of this if I did not love you, quite madly?”

His lips were on mine, and I groaned, opening my mouth for him, for as I said, I was fairly skilled at kissing, at least. My arms found their way around his strong, broad shoulders, and my fingers creased the stiff perfection of his collar. It would have been a flawless memory of perfect romance, had Hazel stayed asleep.

I winced out of his arms as my ear drums were pierced by her agitated shriek, informing us quite loudly that she had woken up expecting to have her bottle, and it was not forthcoming.

“Forgive me, sir.” He rose and glided to the kitchen to retrieve her formula.

“Not at all, Jeeves.’ I replied, scooping her into my arms, hoping that reassurance that we had not forgotten her would calm her down, although I had no bottle on my person. “I’m a bit surly before my morning tea, as well.” For a moment, I felt the sting of resentment that Jeeves had guiltily spoken of, but once she was contentedly feeding, I felt ashamed for being annoyed at all. I gave Jeeves a glance, attempting to convey that I understood. I was a kindred spirit. I bounced Hazel slightly, and she seemed content.


	5. Chapter 5

Hazel did survive the winter, in fact, she thrived. It was the specialist and his sickly sweet concoctions that gave her such vim, despite being of a small and delicate nature, I believe. While she still can’t manage to say “Uncle Bertie”; she frequently tumbles into my arms with an enthusiastic “buh!”, which I feel is in the right spirit. She is dashed intelligent, I can tell, always curious about the world around her. She took it upon herself one day to bang her hands down on the piano, incurring the wrath of the neighbors as well as her father’s disapproval, but once I explained that it was a natural curiosity of a growing girl, the protests lessened, just a little. She often sits on my knee these days, composing her own discordant tunes with hefty slaps of her little hands. I don’t mind that the piano needs tuning more than ever, because I saw Jeeves ‘ lip twitch, just a little on the left side, as it is wont to do when he approves of something that isn’t proper.

 

She’s grown the most amazing mane of unruly, dark hair, which tends to flop into her eyes until Jeeves tames it. One he has her in ribbons for the day, one would imagine she could melt the stoniest of hearts, but in this I was mistaken. My Aunt Agatha, the one that eats scorpions for breakfast, was clearly not a fan. She said some terrible things about the situation, me being Hazel’s godfather, insinuating that Jeeves was an intentional drain on my finances. I won’t repeat all that she said here, for I will not allow such slurs against my loved ones to be put to paper.

 

My Aunt Dahlia of course took a far more logical view of matters, having been thoroughly charmed on the first meeting; although she insisted that the arrangement was an insane scheme. Of course Hazel is too small to be taken from her father’s side now, she said, but a fine ass you’ll look if you have your own goddaughter come to Brinkley Court through the servants’ entrance. And won’t the child feel odd, she asks, when I do the correct thing and set her up in a proper room while her father sleeps in the servants’ hall? I must admit that I had considered none of this, and told her that it couldn’t be helped. She agreed, and called me a stupid ass once again, before unloading an armful of trinkets on the child. Jeeves managed to accept them with only a slight trace of embarrassment.

 

I had hired a nurse to come in the afternoons for four hours a day, to give Jeeves some time to either complete some involved task that babies are not conducive to or to rest, for even a marvel needs to relax sometimes. He hates to admit it, though. Often the nurse, Mrs. Adams, would take Hazel to the park for the afternoon, because the specialist advocated fresh air for her lungs as often as possible. I liked these days best of all, since it allowed us to be alone.

 

I’d never ask for his down time directly. I watch him, to see if he’s well rested and ready. I meet his eyes and smile. Then he makes his move. He often indulges my romantic side. Sometimes, he reads to me, lovely poems about two chaps in love from some little book bound in limp lavender leather. Once, he’d closed all of the drapes, locked the door, and turned on the wireless. He offered to dance with me, as I’d mentioned that I rather missed that activity. He let me hold him close as we danced. Truly a marvel, in every last way. His arms are so strong, and he glides along the floor like a leading man.

 

As wonderful as these activities sound, what makes my heart stop in my chest is when he very deliberately sets my alarm clock. With the clock set and the doors locked, we are free to make love. It feels like I’ve learned every bit of his body, and I’m finally confident enough to relax, to show him all that I’ve learned. He does such subtle, exquisite things to me, and I wish the feeling could last forever. Then the alarm rings, and he kisses me deeply and rises to draw my bath. Tough luck, that. I know that we’ll be able to share a bed someday, when Hazel is at school. We’d decided that we won’t tell her, not until she is much older, old enough to understand that a careless word could destroy our family; or, even more horrifying, take her from her father as well as from me.

 

When the nurse returns, Jeeves takes Hazel into his arms and carries her to the kitchen. His eyes meet mine over her head and I smile, knowing that no matter what terrible things have led to this, I can’t regret a thing- not when his eyes shine in that way that only I can see.


End file.
